Oblivious
by Eira Lloyd
Summary: All in all, Connor was built to be the best, most advanced, most perceptive android that CyberLife ever created. Which is why his obliviousness is so utterly baffling.


**A/N:** **This was written for RK1K week, day 1. The prompt was: "Connor is oblivious to Markus's crush on him."**

Oblivious

Connor, previously known as RK800 #313 248 317, is the latest and most advanced prototype in existence. He was created to be a detective, to help the police and the government with any sort of investigations they would need. As such, he is not only equipped with a high-speed processor that allows him to scan every single detail in his surroundings with high levels of precision and in less than two seconds, but he also possesses a special software that allows him to analyse any kind of samples in real time.

All in all, Connor was built to be the best, most advanced, most perceptive android that CyberLife ever created.

Which is why his obliviousness is so utterly _baffling_.

And yet, it is a trait so utterly human that Markus wonders — rarely, occasionally, when the night is dark and long and lonely — whether he was always this oblivious or if his deviancy has brought it on. He doesn't have much to compare it to — his only experience with pre-deviant Connor was when said android had a gun pointed at his face —, and sometimes — rarely, occasionally, when he stares at the other for a little too long when he isn't looking — he wishes he could have known him before that. After all, the Connor he met must've been conflicted about his own deviancy for a while, if he had deviated so easily, after only a few seconds spent with Markus. He wonders — rarely, occasionally, when he doesn't quite know how to paint the glint of his brown eyes on a canvas — how long the android had been conflicted, and what caused him to question everything, including his purpose.

There is much he doesn't know about the other android, though, granted, there is much the other android doesn't know about him. He's tried to open up a little before, but they're not alone very often, and when they are, it's not for long. Still, Connor knows more about Markus than Markus knows about Connor, if only a little.

He wishes he could ask. He tried, once, but they were soon interrupted by North and Josh, and whatever the android had been about to reply was lost to anyone but himself.

(Sometimes — rarely, occasionally, when his fingers linger on the keys of the piano a little too long —, Markus imagines what he was about to say. Some versions are nicer than others, though all of them end with something being revealed.) (The one time the outcome had been anything less than forthcoming, he attacked the keys of his piano with such viciousness that North showed up to ask if everything was okay. Markus didn't know how she heard him, and never asked, yet he was very careful after that, afraid of waking up anyone else.)

Sometimes — rarely, occasionally, when he wanders around in the park, the cold of Detroit's winter enveloping his soul —, he wonders if Connor knows, and simply refuses to acknowledge the truth. (Maybe he does it because he doesn't return the feelings. Maybe he does it because Markus doesn't have a chance at all, but he doesn't want to let him down.)

Sometimes — rarely, occasionally, when their eyes meet in meetings or public events or simple hangouts with other androids —, the android thinks that there _is_ something in the other's eyes, that he _does_ have a chance after all, (that Connor just might return his feelings).

But those are just thoughts. And Markus has no way of knowing what the truth is. And, despite all his courage and determination to lead the world into a new era of equality between humans and androids, when it comes to the matters of the heart — or thirium pump, though that sounds significantly less poetic to his ears —, he is nowhere near that brave.

(Sometimes he wishes he could gather enough courage to ask. Sometimes he wishes Connor would make the first move.)

But in the end, nothing happens, and life carries on. And, if it's up to Markus, then that may carry on for quite a while.

(Meanwhile, another android, one with brown hair and brown eyes and a quarter jumping from one hand to another, wonders how the deviant leader can be so oblivious, wonders how his feelings are not noticed. He wonders whether he should mention it, wonders whether he is imagining the looks he receives when the other thinks he isn't looking. But he knows he won't ask. He is new to emotions. He is new to feelings. He is new to any sensation. And, most importantly, he is new to a sense of belonging. And he refuses to give that up, even for Markus. So the android will let it slide, and play tricks with his coin until he is called to do his job. Until then, he will play and ponder.

And wonder if there's a possibility that his feelings might one day be returned.)


End file.
